Broody, and Not In the Way You Might Think
by BernardTheWolf
Summary: 3. (adj.)- (informal) wishing to have a baby of one's own (mainly concerning females). In which Sherlock professes to John he wants a child and utter chaos ensues. NO, this is NOT MPreg, and NO, this does NOT have any gender-bending in it. I swear to you! T for the occasional curse word and suggestive themes. Multi-chaptered!
1. Contemplation

***A/N: **Hello my beauties! Time for more happy-cracktastic(ish)-fun time! This is a multi-chaptered little ficlet about a lovely misunderstanding and the afterwards between our favorite Dynamic Duo (but if you like Batman's better, that's fine too.) ^^'

Try not to take this fic to seriously, it's just for fun.

**Disclaimer: **do I really need to?

**Chapter 1: Contemplation  
**

John was beginning to worry about his flatmate. This was not an uncommon occurrence in the slightest, but the doctor was honestly concerned that Sherlock's infamous boredom fits had, as of late, literally debilitated his mind. His tantrum continued for a short three hours before finding a snippet of something in the paper and falling into an impermeable silence. At first it was a heaven-sent for John, but after a while he became concerned. The consulting detective had been perched on the arm of the chair nearest to his favorite window, peering out and as far as Watson had witnessed, hadn't moved in a full three days. He was sure he had, it just hadn't been privy to his line of sight.

He had attempted to talk to his friend and ask him what he was on about, but he was only waved away or growled at. After that John just left him to his own devices. He would surface. Eventually.

…..

It was some time in the evening after John had gotten home from the clinic and was sitting in front of the television eating a microwave dinner while Sherlock remained pensively at his post. With no alert, the taller man rose from the chair and sauntered over, rear end exceedingly sore, no doubt. He switched off the telly (the chagrin of his compatriot) and faced the latter.

"What is it Sherlock?" John sighed tiredly, knowing this would be another one of his capricious schemes thought up in one of his dire times of need without his precious 'entertainment'.

"John," Sherlock started pacing, hands going to their normal contemplative steeple beneath his chin and John knew this was going to be bad.

"I've decided I want to have a child."

John Watson's jaw hit the floor faster than his teacup did.

***A/N: **Already working on chapter two if you guys are wondering! Reviews are cupcakes!


	2. Rejection

***A/N: **Well that was fun wasn't it! Here's chapter two as promised. In case anyone's wondering, this will only be five or six chapters long, no biggie. It's just about the awkwardly hilarious events leading up to the acquisition of the child, nothing past that really. I'll include a little epilogue thing but that's it I think, I'm still debating on whether or not they get the kid. So please feel free to give you input! (If you're even reading this author's note at all!) It's fine, I skip these things all the time…. But that's beside the point!

_Note to Johnlock shippers:_do not, repeat _**do NOT **_under _**ANY **_means listen to the song 'Somebody Like You' by Adele ((which I don't own by the way… if I even _need _to say that)) while thinking about what might happen if Sherly shows back up in S3 and John's married to Mary Morstan. And now I've put the thought in your head. Crap. Sorry! I suffered, so you must suffer with me! Read this fic and some Johnlock fluff to make yourselves feel better. **AND REMEMBER:** no matter what's canon, WE CAN STILL GO ON SHIPPING! _**NEVER MIND, I'LL FIND SOMEBODY LIKE YOU STEVEN MOFFAT!**_

Sorry about that. Read on my pretties! And find great humor in the austere awkwardness of John and Sherlock's predicament!

**WARNING:** if you can't understand the implied themes and innuendos then don't read this chapter. You will just be lost. Also, I'm aware this most likely wouldn't go down like this, but that's the point of this fic so just, whatever. The point is supposed to be humor and crack so just roll with it.

**Disclaimer: **…..must I?

**Chapter Two: A Daunting Misconception**

John was a complete loss for words as how to reply to the claim that had just been uttered from Sherlock's pale lips. The taller man rolled his eyes at his gaping fish-mouth and gave his simpleminded flatmate a moment to process this information before proceeding.

"A-as in you want-"

"A child, yes. An infant would be-"

"_Waitwaitwaitwait!" _John interrupted, jumping to his feet and waving his arms around for Sherlock to stop that second. The consulting detective gave him a disparaging look but nonetheless let him continue speaking. The entire conversation had started off horribly and was going downhill fast because John initially misunderstood Sherlock's desires. Completely.

"So you're telling _me _that you want to have a_ baby?!" _John, a little more than surprised and flabbergasted, almost shouted at Sherlock.

"John," he rubbed his temple slightly in frustration, "you know I don't like repeating myself. I've already done so once." Sherlock replied flatly, for once not catching the intentional miswording in John's petrified query. He was going on six days no food or sleep. Electively. But such is the mind of Sherlock Holmes.

"Sh-Sherlock, are you trying to _tell me something…?" _John asked, horrified and took a partial step back, shrinking a little as he did so. His eyes were wide as dinner plates, thinking he was hearing some sort of outlandish revelation and twisted proposal from his flatmate whom he thought he knew so well.******

Sherlock rolled his eyes and breathed out heavily, just thinking Watson was being overly temperamental and not catching what his flatmate was trying to insinuate.

"John, _honestly,_ this level of stupidity is reserved for _Anderson! _I assumed that we had a stable enough friendship to-"

"_Oh, no, oh, __**fuck no**__!" _John roared taking a liberal step back as the thought fully developed itself in his mind. _Nonononono, get OUT! _The mental images that entered his mind didn't help either.

"If you think," he jutted an index finger at Sherlock who was rather taken aback by John's explosion, "for one _second _I'm going to father you a _child _then-" Sherlock's eyebrows shot up and he quickly cut John off.

"Heaven's sake _no, _John! My idea for us was that we-" his wording made things worse.

"Look Sherlock, I don't _care _if you're transsexual, it would have been bloody _nice _if you told me _sooner, _but under _**no**__**circumstances**_ – why are you looking at me like that…." Sherlock, seething anger and frustration, took a quick step forward and sweeping his long arm in an arc, slapped John forcefully across the face.

"Ow! What the hell-"

"_John Hamish Watson, you are a complete and utter __**Anderson.**_" Sherlock snarled viciously at the other, who _had _been being effectively idiotic.

John sputtered for a moment, still horrified and confused.

"What I was _trying to say _was," Sherlock glared at him, making sure he wouldn't interrupt again. John wasn't planning to. "I would like to _host _a _foster child _for a _trial period." _The taller man spat, in close proximity to his partner in crime. John's face was already turning red from the slap, but he wouldn't give Sherlock the satisfaction of touching it. A profuse blush was helping to cover it up though.

The two of them stood there staring at each other in the longest, most uncomfortable, _awkward _silence _ever. _In what one might say was a _pregnant _silence. No pun intended.

A ridiculous smile pulled at the corners of John's mouth and before long the two of them had burst out into raucous, uncontrollable laughter.

"Damn, I'm sorry Sherlock," John apologized, wiping hysterical tears from his eyes.

"Yes, well." Sherlock cleared his throat lightly and regained his composure.

"Just to be clear, you're not-"

"No, I am most certainly _not." _The consulting detective sniffed indignantly.

"Right." John replied awkwardly, looking at the floor and fidgeting with the hem of his cable knit jumper. A small blush reached his cheeks as he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make things worse, but that seemed impossible. There was another awkward silence, though this on not quite as thick or long or… _pregnant_ as the other one.

"So, er, you want to apply for care of a foster child?" John queried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Quite. That way if the relations do not work out, there will not be a hassle like adoption. An infant would be preferable, but an undeveloped toddler would suffice." Holes replied cautiously, hands going back to their thoughtful steeple position and went back to pacing.

"And why on Earth would you want to do that?" John pressed, crossing his arms in an attempt to seem somewhat stern to the other man, knowing that this idea was still very up in the air and regardless of the time it took him to puzzle it all out, Sherlock was making a very rash decision and a _bad_ mistake. In Sherlock's eyes John failed completely at his attempt to assert his authority, ending up only looking endearingly cuddly and adorable in the taller man's opinion.

"I would like to put to test Pavlov's theory of conditioning on a minutely influenced individual that is not my own offspring on a human mind." He explained, telling a fraction-truth to his flatmate. There were lots of other reasons Sherlock wanted to procure a child.

"That's completely _sick!" _the blond doctor shrieked at his friend's apparent lack of humanity. Sherlock had been expecting this and had prepared an argument in the time he had been ruminating.

"Now John,-"

"Don't you '_now John' _me-!" Sherlock silenced him with a harsh glare and carried on.

"That isn't the primary reason I wish to foster a child." He raised his chin slightly, almost challenging the other.

"Oh yeah, then what are the rest?!" John unconsciously took a half-step forward.

"Well for one, I theorized that if I formed another strong emotional bond with another person other than, well, _you," _John blushed again and tried to hide it from Sherlock, "it could be amiable for all of us. Also, there are plenty of children in the world that require a stable, healthy environment. All of which I would be able to provide for aptly." John burst out into darkly amused laughter. Sherlock frowned at him and waited for him to finish, predicting his response.

"Seriously Sherlock, seriously? You must be completely _mental_ to think that! Look around," John swept his arms out, "does anything about his environment look _healthy_ to you?" he gestured to the kitchen that was fully stocked with chemistry equipment full to the brim with hazardous experiments and chemicals, appliances containing various human organs, and the piles upon piles of clutter that took up the flat.

"Look at the _life_ we lead Sherlock! This lovely little _hobby _you like to pursue! _No child _should be under your care!" John exclaimed, considering after he blurted it out that it could have hurt Sherlock's feelings, but it needed to be said if he was seriously considering this course of action. This was likely because Sherlock came up with profound eccentricities when he was just so damn _bored._

The dark haired man cocked an eyebrow at his compatriot, letting him make a quick deduction.

"You-you've already thought about this haven't you?" John asked cautiously, already knowing the answer. Sherlock gave him a quick nod.

"I am highly aware of this John," a ghost of a smile on his lips, "I think that exposing a child to this medium and under an extensive education-"

"If you want to condition something, get a _puppy! _That's what _Pavlov _did!" John threw his hands up in exasperation, "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind it if you chose to invest in one. _The more the merrier dear!" _ the blond did a mock impression of his and Sherlock's landlady. This put Sherlock off for a moment but he quickly recovered.

"No pets." Sherlock said with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, and what about the family thing? You don't have a spouse or even a partner! I don't think an agency would take very kindly to a _single man_ wanting to foster a child, Sherlock." John continued ranting, putting his hands on his hips, which Sherlock had always found somewhat feminine (though he would never tell the other this). Sherlock shot him a pointed look, and sighed again.

"You thought about that too, didn't you." John asked flatly, not needing a reply.

"Of course I did. And I beg to differ John, I think you would make a wonderful mother figure. What I think-"

"Wait, _what?!_ I will _not _be called a mother hen! Especially not by you! I am a _man, _dammit!" John flushed and literally put his foot down, not helping his case. Sherlock smirked in self-satisfaction at this.

"Of course not, dear." He drawled as John went in a tirade about his masculinity. _If you were so secure in your masculinity, you wouldn't have to lecture me about how you were John._ Sherlock thought a little smugly to himself, same smirk still on his lips.

"Di-did you just do the husband-wife 'yes, dear' thing?!" John stopped mid-rant, glaring at his flatmate. Sherlock decided to push his luck.

"Yes, dear." John puffed up and became defensive. _Like a hedgehog. It never occurred to me, but he closely resembles a hedgehog…. Acts like one too. _

"You insufferable man! Let me tell you-" Sherlock sighed, loosely crossed his arms and perched himself on the nearest chair arm to listen to John's speech. Sherlock observed that their situation was very common amongst typical married couples.

John got to a point in his ran where he claimed an agency wouldn't even consider Sherlock's application and the latter felt the need to cut in. With all the interrupting that was going on in this conversation, once more would make no difference.

"Oh, and why is that Dr. Watson?" he queried with raised eyebrows.

"Don't patronize me Holmes. And like I said before, you have no spouse and _no _place of permanent occupation!" John snapped, going back to crossing his arms, yet again failing to look formidable.

"Ah yes, but see _Doctor _Watson, if I _did _have a partner that withstanding _did _have a place of permanent employment and _just so happened _to hold the same residence in the same flat as myself…" Sherlock trailed off, leaving the suggestion open for John to catch on. The blood drained from the doctor's face as he met the realization.

"No. _No, _I _won't _help you Sherlock!" John took a step back, fists clenched at his sides. Sherlock could easily see how averse to the idea his friend was and felt momentarily antsy, a bizarre feeling of _rejection_, but he quickly pushed it away and let another wicked grin split his face.

"Oh I think you _will,_ John." The doctor's upper lip twitched in outward defiance, but Sherlock knew he was already beginning to cave.

***A/N: **I know some of you are probably thinking "John wouldn't let Sherlock get away with that so easily!" This will be addressed in the next chapter!

_**P.S.: **_**I don't want anyone to misunderstand! I do not have anything against transsexuals. I was just trying to express what a shock to john it would be if Sherlock randomly decided to tell him, along with what sounded like a **_**very**___**awkward proposal. **(Because John read _waaaaayy to far between the lines…)_

Embrace the crack! _AND LEAVE A REVIEW!_


	3. How Long I Have Waited, Suffocating

***A/N: ****((READ ME))** It has come to my attention that there are some concerns about what's going on with the foster care system thing. I am not trying to hurt or offend anyone with this. I understand that the last chapter may have been quite insensitive to any of my readers that were or are part of the foster care system. For this I am inexplicably sorry if you have been, that was not my intention in the slightest. I myself am not part of the system, but have almost ended up in it a couple of times so I understand; I mean no harm by what's going on in this story. Please forgive me. John is NOT just letting Sherlock get away with this and *tiny spoiler* Sherlock isn't being as heartless as we might think (quite the opposite in fact). This _IS _a family fic after all :D It will all get worked out in this chapter I promise, and if you still have concerns or problems with this story afterwards please feel free to PM me and we can talk :)

**WARNING:** _**THIS CHAPTER IS **__**VERY**__** ANGSTY AND **__**SAD**__**!**_ _Don't _expect any humor here! Brace yourselves for the feels! (Unless you're just heartless…) This chapter is also Johnlock central. So buyer beware if you don't ship the most canon, perfect pairing in all of time and history. (Johnlock is my OTP if you can't tell ^^')

**Disclaimer: **oh yes, because I most definitely own BBC and Moffat is my personal slave… (don't I wish!)

**Chapter Three: How Long I Have Waited, Suffocating**

It had been about two weeks since the fight and Sherlock's filing for paperwork, John was still heavily against the entire situation. It wasn't because he didn't fancy the idea of having a child in the house, far from it in fact. John Watson loved children, unbeknownst to everyone else. A few probably figured he didn't really care about them or the like but it was much different than that. The doctor often wished he had a healthy family with little ones running amuck around the house while he read the evening paper at the dinner table and sipped a cuppa. He envisioned the clear sound of his children's laughter, their first day of school, them coming to him about things like bike riding, skinned knees, maths problems, and bullies at school. He thought about the profound feeling of pride and love he would have when he sent his children off to college, gave his son the 'becoming a man' speech, and walked his daughter down the aisle at her wedding.

John was just never able to fill the wife's slot. He was popular with the ladies, that was for sure. He never seemed to have a problem finding a girlfriend with his adorably handsome face, big heart, and refreshingly genuine personality, but… they never seemed to last long. John couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a girl for more than a year. He had this problem even before he knew Sherlock and just couldn't figure out why the women never stayed. He knew _now _of course…. John wanted a woman to stand by his side loving him and be the mother of his children, but he had resigned himself to the life of a bachelor, not trying to get his hopes to high when another girl happened his way.

The doctor's real problem with Sherlock's idea was he very highly doubted other man was _equipped_ to care for a child. John didn't think that Sherlock _grasped _the concept of what it was to be responsible for the life and well-being of a child no matter his brain might be. A human life wasn't something to be tampered with as a _science experiment._

John unconsciously gripped the newspaper in his hands tighter in anger, making the paper crinkle in protest. His thoughts that had wondered far afield were brought back by the sound. He automatically glanced at Sherlock, who was at the window absorbed in the piece he was playing on his beloved violin, not noticing the doctor's musings. John took some relief in this so the information wouldn't have to be exhorted from him about his thoughts if he had been noticed. Sherlock and him had been fighting enough recently. John's mind wandered back to the topic of paternity as he was lulled into a trance-like state by the deceptively happy crackle of the November fire of the dimly lit flat and the slow, luxurious tone of Sherlock's playing.

What would it be like to have a child in the flat? With all the coming and going that happens in this house, would Sherlock have the time to attend to the child's needs? Wait scratch that, would he _make _the time to attend to the child's needs? John had initially vowed that he would not have a single thing to do with this foolish nonsense if Sherlock _did _manage to procure a foster child, but Sherlock had called him on his bluff and he was forced to agree. He couldn't leave the child solely in Sherlock's hands. What would it be like raising a child with Sherlock? John blushed at bit at this thought. It was the thousandth time it had sauntered through his preoccupied mind in the last couple of weeks and it never failed to make his face heat up.

Would it really be like having a family? John romanticized the thought, pushing it beyond the logical boundaries. Deep down he was afraid and almost sure that Sherlock would become bored and frustrated within a month's time and the poor, scarred child would be returned to the agency at the soonest opportunity. But John really wanted to believe that in some way Sherlock really _did _want a child for a sound, valid reason and something beautiful could come from it. John wasn't yet willing to let go of his dreams of fatherhood or Sherlock Holmes.

He figured the situation would take some getting used to since the two of them were not romantically involved (John unknowingly blushed again) and the both of them were both going to function as parent figures for the child. It wouldn't be awkward or hard to explain to the child _at all. _

The doctor was forced to begrudgingly admit to himself that Sherlock was somewhat right about him being a mother figure. His parental tendencies and heartfelt affections leaned more towards the maternal side more than anything. Sherlock on the other hand was the epidemy of the stereotypical newspaper father who sat at the table rifling through the articles, tuning everything that didn't have to do with his immediate line of vision out, 'kids-will-be-kids as long as they don't mouth off to me' kind of parent in John's opinion, whereas he was the exact opposite.

Within the two weeks Sherlock had filed the necessary paperwork, gotten Mycroft to pull a few strings, and had the situation approved with Mrs. Hudson John and Sherlock had a countless amount of fallings out about the entire thing. The doctor had tried his hardest to impress upon Sherlock that children were not objects to be _played _with and experimented upon and how uncompassionate and heartless he was being. The children in the foster care system deserved so much more and so much better than that which should have gone without saying. Whatever hell that they had gone through to get them there, they didn't need a madman 'conditioning' them. John would have been more than happy to admit one into his home, but not under these circumstances. This was just wrong. At this argument the consulting detective would shut down. John wouldn't pretend to know why but just stormed out of the flat each time and wouldn't come back until later. _Surely _that couldn't be the only reason Sherlock so greatly desired a kid. Could it…? He had been so different since his return to 221B six months ago.

John was more put off than usual about things because it was the evening before Sherlock was scheduled to go into the office for an interview with the agency. Needless to say John utterly refused to go. Sherlock had already gotten Mycroft to pull all of the necessary paperwork for John's end, which he could do nothing about and it frustrated him to no end. He resented the other Holmes brother for this, he was just sucking up to the younger one for his vicious betrayal at the hands of Sherlock's archenemy. John didn't know that Mycroft already had a good idea of how this would turn out and about the words Sherlock had said to him when they talked. But despite already being dragged into the situation not of his own accord, he could still choose whether or not he would attend that interview. _That damn idiot…_

"You're thinking about it again." Sherlock interrupted flatly, having stopped his playing and observing his flatmate as his mind wandered. The doctor snapped back to the present and he locked his eyes on the younger Holmes brother.

"Why do you want a kid so badly Sherlock?" he asked in a quiet, deadly serious tone, looking Sherlock right in the eye.

"It's like I told you John-"

"No Sherlock, don't _lie _to _me. Why." _John almost snarled, setting his cold tea and paper aside.

Sherlock suddenly became very serious and solemn all of a sudden, taking the doctor by surprise. The taller man set his violin down, bow still in hand as he loosely crossed his arms. Sherlock examined the ground while trying to find the right words to explain, tasting them as he thought it out. He was almost afraid to tell John the real reason, meaning her would have to expose a vulnerable part of himself to the other man that he wasn't sure he wanted John to see yet. Not with the way things were coming about… in exactly the wrong way.

"How do I put this," he mused in his smooth baritone despite his better judgment. John deserved the truth. It was the least he could give him.

The dim lighting of the flat painted the planes of his angular face, creating deep lines as the light fire constantly crackled and shifted, casting ominous shadows over everything. John didn't think he'd ever seen Sherlock look this… _old. _It was like a child who has finally come to terms with a terrible, heavy truth that had been plaguing the back of their mind and now had finally been forced to move beyond the blurred boundary of youth and adulthood. Sherlock absently licked his lips and finally flicked his eyes back up to John's in firm contact. The normally piercing, omnipotent, omniscient gaze the color of unclouded sea glass was black and bottomless with an indescribable desolation in them. All of a sudden John Watson wasn't sure he wanted to hear his resurrected friend's answer.

"I'm… tired John." Sherlock sighed, his voice devoid of the attentive, intelligent tune it normally carried. It was flat and empty. It stabbed John in the heart, and he became upset. His best friend should not have been this wretched. The doctor got half way through the word 'what' to ask what Sherlock had meant by his previous statement when he was offered an explanation.

"During the time I was gone," John gulped thickly, not wanting to remember those dark three years, "I… changed." The doctor had noticed this himself but was unsure about it until he was given the confirmation from the other. Sherlock took an uneasy breath and continued.

"I realized how shallow my existence was." Sherlock's gaze had wandered to the fireplace, "Literally living for the death of other people…. How futile everything was. How _selfish _I had been… and how I had treated you." His eyes returned to his partner's, "For that I am sorry John." The doctor was taken completely by surprise at this revelation. He couldn't imagine what Sherlock had been through for this to change thirty-six years of the same mindset and he didn't try to. This man in front of him was not the Sherlock Holmes that he knew. John never imagined the change in him was this earth-shatteringly deep. This was foreign territory for him with no ticket back to the homeland and the only thing his brain could manage to sputter out was an "Oh yeah, no problem."

John cursed himself for this, the stupidity of it, very angry with himself. This was the most profound confession he had ever heard in the five years he had known the consulting detective and all he could say was 'no problem'. _Idiot!_

Sherlock smiled grimly, raking a hand through his thick, silky curls and setting his violin bow down with its partner instrument. _You haven't changed at all John._ Sherlock thought to himself. He could easily read the army doctor, knowing how much that little sentence conveyed.

"Needless to say, I cannot continue living for each _case _that comes my way. Ah, before you ask," Sherlock cut off John's opening mouth and took a slow step forward, "if you haven't noticed, the cases I've been taking have been simple child's play. I think you could have solved them yourself if you so wished," he quirked the corner of his mouth at John to let him know he was teasing the older man, though it did nothing to lighten the oppressive atmosphere of the room. Sherlock's eyes flicked back to the fireplace.

"Those three years made me realize that even in a world full of normals, there is still a better way of filling the days than dragging yourself through each one." Most of the thought processes in John's mind had come to a halt a he tried to absorb everything Sherlock was saying and process it as well as he was able. The dark haired man's gaze returned to the doctor's and a small rueful smile touched his lips and he pulled his hands into their customary steeple position as he began to pace.

"I would like to resign from this life of tediousness. Trade it for something more… domestic." Again the only thought that would come to John's mind to reply was the most unsuitable one.

"I thought your mind rebelled at stagnation." Sherlock smiled emptily again and stopped pacing, now less than a meter from the doctor.

"This running about chasing shadows on an empty battlefield has stagnated my mind more than anything, John." Sherlock didn't know if John could fully grasp what he was saying and what he had been through. Sherlock had lived every day for three years straight for only one person: John Watson. He fought every day for all of the people he loved, but there was really only one person that he could not go on living if they departed from this world for the next one. The game had run its course and it weighed heavily on Sherlock's heart and mind. His deepest desire over those three years had been just to return to home 221B. Just to be with John again one more time. "There was no means to an end," he continued after that moment of thought, meaning the normalcy of their daily lives before the Fall; John grasped this, "and thus my existence was pointless. Surely you must realize this John."

The problem was that John _did _understand. He had never viewed it in that light before and it frightened him. Had his past five years been a waste too? No. No of course they weren't. He had met Sherlock, befriended the lonely man, fought beside him, _died_ for him, and fallen irrevocably in love with him. It was far from a waste. Compassion poured like a flood into John's heart for Sherlock. If he had really come to the conclusion that his entire existence was pointless, it truly was the worst feeling in the world. _Then why did you come back Sherlock? …I never thought that of you. How could I?_ A strong urge to get up and pull Sherlock into a loving embrace overcame john but he was rooted to his spot in the arm chair and couldn't move a muscle.

Sherlock had come to this dire self-realization roughly a year before his return to Baker Street, but it took him longer to come to the conclusion that the deepest desire of his ravished soul was John Watson and something else he never dared consider possessing for his own: a family. It was a foolish desire for him specifically, he knew, but it didn't alter his feelings.

Sherlock had tried so hard to confess himself to the other but couldn't manage to muster the gall despite his life-changing revelation. He couldn't bring himself that far just to be shattered. Again, it was foolish he knew, he lived every moment for John and professing a love so deep it impressed itself on one's soul and literally changed his entire life should have come naturally and easy from his lips, but it wouldn't. It couldn't. Sherlock theorized another reason to this epidemic was the walled-off air he received from John after his return like the other didn't completely accept it. It didn't exactly add to the consulting detective's self-reassurance. And the doctor _didn't_ accept it. He wanted to more than anything, but subconsciously woke up every morning expecting to find a vacant flat and the last few months to be a cruel, tortuous dream. Sherlock didn't know that the words he so dearly wished to say but couldn't manage were exactly what John needed to hear to fill the gaping hole in his wounded heart. No, wounded was not the word. _Shattered, ravaged… __**broken.**_ So the doctor had painfully distanced himself because of this reason. He never understood why he couldn't bring himself to divulge the apparent truth, but Sherlock had been so down-trodden at times.

So the two of them had reached a bitter stalemate, unsure of what to do and neither gaining any ground. They stood on a desolate tract of no-man's-land, surrounded by the bleeding emotions that soaked every surface of their lives, so close to each other, reaching out but too far away to touch and drowning in an ocean of air.

Sherlock had resigned himself to the hard possibility a long time ago that John might never be his, but that would never prevent him from acquiring the rest of his soul-deep desire. The painting would be whole and complete with John and Sherlock sincerely hoped this would work. Even he knew that one couldn't have a family without children. He had never been particularly fond of the hyperactive, noncompliant little trolls, but what if they were _his _children? His and _John's _children? He hoped beyond hope that they would form some semblance of a family and John would fall into his arms, as shallow and ill-begotten the notion was. He had waited to long for this to come to pass and could wait no longer because apparently the great Sherlock Holmes apparently wasn't capable of asking his best friend on a date. If not, well, he would still have the child to love (yes, _love_) and care for. It would just be an infinitely good side effect of a very outlandish idea if everything _did _work out in the end. All Sherlock knew was he couldn't go on like this anymore.

"All right, fine." Sherlock turned back to John, broken from his mental repertoire, "… I'll go to the office tomorrow with you." The doctor relented begrudgingly, rubbing his chin in frustration. Sherlock did and always would have him wrapped around his little finger and Watson currently hated him for it.

"Good." Sherlock smiled lightly, a little prick of joy and hope fueling his heart. _Maybe this can work…. _He remembered a crucial detail all of a sudden that brought him down from his momentarily high spirits. The tall man reached into the pocket of his black trousers and pulled the small article out. The metal felt cold and exceedingly heavy in his hand, more so than it should have been for its small size and mass. Sherlock wanted this to be one of the greatest moments in his life, full of joy, happiness, and euphoric tears, something he would never forget as long as he lived (though he wasn't likely to forget this either anytime soon), not offhanded and nonchalant like it was forced to be.

"You'll need this." Sherlock held the ring out to John, taking a step forward so his companion could take it from him. The doctor's face paled at the sight of the gold band that lay in Sherlock's pale hand, reflecting the dancing flames of the fire mockingly bright.

"Wh-what's that for?" he stuttered, feeling like a child that had just been show a loaded pistol. Did Sherlock understand what an unwelcome shock this was? What a number it did on his heartstrings? Just being offered a wedding band with no real significance in it by the man he loved most in the world? A tragic lump lodged itself in John's throat, sensing what the ring was for. _That damn interview._

"We're supposed to be married, remember?" a bit of life had returned to Sherlock's voice, making him sound mildly amused, even though he couldn't be further from it.

"Oh…. Right…." John tried to steel himself to take the supposedly empty token, but his hand shook regardless. For a brief second John could feel the surprising warmness of Sherlock's palm and the coolness of the ring's metal.

Sherlock observed the doctor as he took the band that he wished he could give an infinite amount of meaning to. John's fingers trembled as he took a shaky breath, very gently retrieving the ring as if it would burn him. Sherlock wanted to read into this, dissect it like he did every piece of information, why John was so nervous, but followed his better judgment; he knew any conclusion would either give him false hope or a broken heart. His heart already felt like it had been stomped on repetitively as he had to pull the ring out.

It would be utterly ridiculous to show up at the interview, claim to be married, and neither of them in possession of a wedding band of any kind. Sherlock felt this was the best thing his brother had ever done for him. When he had been talking to his older sibling about the arrangement, Mycroft had asked about rings, a subject Sherlock had intentionally chose not to think about and replied with a curt "_No." _and shut down again. The next day he had found a small parcel addressed to him, in it contained a black velvet box holding a silver and gold ring for both John and him. Sherlock had nearly thrown it out into traffic.

"Right, well then… I'll just…" not knowing what to do with the ring, John gently set it on the table beside him gently. Sherlock plastered fake self-satisfied smile on his face and strode to his room, not wanting to prolong this anymore than need-be, to cope with the emotions that were threatening to suffocate him.

John sat there for a long time in the arm chair, digesting what had just happened and everything Sherlock had said. When he came to the conclusion he realized that tears were flowing liberally down his cheeks.

***A/N: **DAMMIT, WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN! This was supposed to be a happy, fluffy, silly family fic and all of a sudden _**THIS^ **_has to come and drop itself into the story to actually make the story actually readable! AAGHH! _**WWHHYYYYY?! POR QUE?! **_

Sorry about that chapter, it had to be written -_-'

What's funny is that out of this entire chapter I teared up writing the first chapter, nothing else. Go figure.

Well I hope I've successfully ripped your hearts! You can fully console yourselves knowing that **I DON'T WRITE SAD ENDINGS **so never fear! This _**will**_have a happy, fluffy, give-you-diabetes ending!

Also I'm slightly upset with myself that this is probably going to end up being longer than I had originally intended…. Drat. :/ oh well, keep on reading my lovelies!

_IF YOU DON'T LEAVE A REVIEW, YOU DON'T HAVE A HEART!_

**Oh, and thank you a million to all the wonderful lovely people who **_**have **_**been reviewing, faving, and alert adding! You are fantastically wonderful and deserve to have the Doctor find you and he lets you drive the TARDIS! **_**ALLONSY!**_

**If you still have concerns or problems with this story about the foster care system thing still, please feel free to PM me and we can talk :)  
**

_Hey, hey, hey! _Do you guys know what else you want to do?! **GO CHECK OUT MY PAGE!** I have a funny one-shot on there about Sherly using all of John's jam which you all should R&R! XD


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